Protopigs
by TheWritingMustache
Summary: Blue is the color of love. Blue is the color of your soulmate's eyes when you look into them for the first time. Blue is the color you wish you could see instead of the red of blood on your hands when everything comes crashing down around you and no matter how hard you try, red is all you're gonna see. [Protocreed AU] [M]
1. Desmond - Introduction

Oh good lordy what in the hell am I writing now. I can never have too many ongoing projects at once, now can I? Well ladies and germs, this is exactly what you think it's going to be. This is going to be based off the play and movie, Disco Pigs, created by Enda Walsh. Never heard of it, look it up, give it a watch. But if you don't wanna spoil this story, then don't, I don't care what you do. But enough of that, time to start reading.

* * *

They say that finding your soulmate is the most romantic thing in the world. They say that having a soulmate is downright romantic, that it's perfect, who could ask for more? Sometimes your soulmate isn't someone you're in love with in that romantic sense. You can have a platonic soulmate, just someone who's in your life and you can't imagine it without them because then what would your world be like if they're not in it?

My soulmate and I, met each other the day we were born. We were born in the same hospital, at the same moment as each other. We were put in cribs right next to each other in the nursery, and that's how we met. Screaming, crying little mounds of pink flesh, trying out our lungs for the first time. What else could we do? Here we were, in this strange new world full of bright lights and loud noises and new smells, and as a newborn baby, it can be pretty overwhelming.

And you just feel so alone. You know your mother's not there, you know you can't hear her voice echoing through the walls. Everything is is open and terrifying, and all you wanna do is just scream about it. Scream, and scream, and scream. And it's exactly what I did my crib in that nursery. Screamed and cried until my lungs felt like they were gonna give out. And I only stopped…When I heard him.

We could hear each other between wails, this sound so similar to ourselves, but unable to figure out just where it was coming from. But we could hear each other, and that was enough for us. We quieted down, trying to figure out where the other was. When it got too quiet, one of us would start crying again, scared that whoever it was, they were gone.

I know it sounds crazy, and it's gonna keep sounding crazy, cause that's what defines our life. Crazy. Crazy that one of us thought to just turn his head to the side, and bam, there he was. For the first time ever, my brown eyes met his blue, and we were just set. We looked at each other, we did, we really did. Made those weird baby gurgles at each other.

And now the really, really crazy part of it; we reached out for each other. We did, I swear to God and back we did. Reached out, and held hands. I can't make this up, none of this I can. We held hands, and never let go after that.

Allow our story to escalate.

Turns out, we were neighbors. We live in one of those tiny towns where, it's tiny in the sense of, everything is pushed together incredibly close. So close, the houses touch each other. And that was our house. His house was sandwiched right next to mine. Our bedrooms? Right next to each other. We figured that out when were little kids, when we found matching holes in the wall. There's a space, just wide enough to fit a man's hand through it. For the two of us, as small as were, we could get our arms through it up to the elbow, no problem.

So we asked our moms to push the beds to that one wall. We hid that hole from them, covered it up with whatever we could. Or, well, as well as we could hide that hole at the age of six. They all probably know it's there, they probably don't care. They never really got in the way of your friendship, but looking back, sometimes I wish they did.

Every night we would climb into bed, uncover that hole, sticks our hands though it, and fall asleep that way. And we won't let go. Sometimes we don't hold hands, but in the morning, you can bet our fingers are laced together when we wake.

And every night, we say the same thing to each other.

I say, "Goodnight, Alex"

And he'll say, "Goodnight, Desmond"

I'l tell him, "Sweet dreams"

He'll say "You too" back to me. And then he'll add, "I love you"

And I never fail to say "I love you too" back.

It's just been our thing the whole time we've known each other, the whole time we've been alive. Couldn't really ask for more. To us, our lives were perfect, the two of us together. Not even friends, but like brothers. The closest brothers you'll ever damn see. We did everything together. It wouldn't feel right if we didn't. We were the thicker than thieves, the two peasiest in the pod, peanut butter to jelly, two fingers caught in a Chinese finger trap. I couldn't get rid of Alex if I tried, not that I ever did.

We just complemented each other so well. We only had each other. Had no other friends. No one could possibly replace Alex, there was no one else in the world that was like Alex. He needed me. I'll be real, he couldn't make friends with a paper bag no matter how hard he tried. We attempted once or twice, make other friends. No one really liked us though. They just didn't _get it_ like we did. So we stopped trying, we only needed each other anyway. We didn't need other people in the way of that.

That was our though process for the longest time. Looking back, I can see now just how fucked up our relationship was. How controlling and obsessive it was. How we shut others out. The damage we did to ourselves. How we couldn't escape each other, but we'll always find a way. He _always_ found me. Sometimes I wish he never bothered. But I can't change the past, not at this point. The only thing I can do, is reflect on it, and learn from it.

My name is Desmond Miles, and shit it the fan right before our seventeenth birthday, and my soulmate was my sociopath best friend.

* * *

This will be my first fic done in 1st person point of view, so if it seems odd or off, well, I'm new at this. And clearly I'm gonna take some creative liberties with this story, but still get the basic main point of the story across. Except sporadic updates, this will be updated whenever I so please. You could get another chapter a few hours from now, or tomorrow, or a week from now, you're never gonna know. But I think you know how this story will probably, inevitably go because it's a protocreed story and it's being written by me.

So with that in mind, stick around, keep your eyes peeled, and enjoy the show.


	2. Desmond - The Meeting

Alex was crazy. Like really crazy. The dangerous kind of crazy. I always knew he was. Just, the things he would talk about, the way he would do things…It made sense afterwards. How obsessive he was. How unhinged he got. How _lost_ he was inside his own head and he didn't know the way out because the way out accepting a reality he didn't want to deal with. The only reality that mattered was me. I was his reality. I kept him grounded, in control, kept him on this level of existence. He needed me.

But he was so smart. Fucking brilliant really. If he wasn't so focused on me, if he wasn't so insane, he could have really done some incredible things. Alex was a scientist at heart. An inventor. An innovator. There was nothing he just didn't understand right away. He was taking Trigonometry as a sophomore in high school, calculus as a junior. Physics, chemistry, anatomy, all AP classes. He was the best student ever in that regard. If he wasn't such a little shithead with as many detentions and suspensions as he did straight As, schools would have been throwing scholarships at him left and right next year when we were gonna be seniors.

And trust me, Alex got in trouble a lot.

Trouble was practically his middle name (which, it wasn't, it was Joseph). And by extension, I guess it was mine too. Alex was a little too smart for his own good. Like a true scientist, he always had a hypothesis, an experiment to play out, some sort of conclusion to reach. His experiments were usually sick pranks on other people, like my classmates and my own father. And I never hesitated to help him, or to follow along with it, because what else could I do?

I was too ensnared in that trap, so unable to tell him no, there was nothing I couldn't deny him. I was wrapped around his finger and I wasn't smart enough to see it until it was too late.

It was one of those pranks that inevitably caught up with us, and essentially set our downfall into motion. It wasn't the actual prank itself, but just a culmination of all the pranks we had pulled, all the trouble we constantly put ourselves in.

To give some background, it was Yearbook Club who was kinda at fault with us. Er, we were at fault with. You know how there's always those sections of the Yearbook for just whatever, the Best of something. Best dressed, best smile, best personality, etc. So we submitted ourselves for Best…everything essentially. And they denied us. Even for "Best Friends" they weren't gonna give us. Which, understandably, pissed us off. Like, I was legitimately mad. It didn't help our case as it is that no one in the fucking school liked us (okay not everyone, but Yearbook were not fans of ours), but that didn't mean they could just exclude us like that.

So we retaliated. I just wanted to complain to a teacher, but Alex pointed out that it wouldn't be as satisfactory if we didn't handle it ourselves. And even today, I still agree with him on that part. So what we did was took pictures of ourselves making goofy faces. Then we made couple hundred copies of those pictures. Then we cut out our faces and pasted them on top of everything in the Yearbook room. There wasn't a spot in that room where we weren't.

And it was _glorious_. So glorious, some of the Yearbook guys hunted us down at lunch and we ended up in a fist fight with them. Alright now that I'm thinking about it, it might have been the fight that really got us into trouble and not plastering our faces all over the Yearbook room. Or maybe it just helped escalate. Regardless of what it was, the school's administration had had enough of our shit (even though we felt strongly in the right), and weren't gonna put up with it anymore. So they called our parents, and that little meeting kinda went something like this;

**x-X-X-x**

William and Hannah Miles sat in the principal's office for the umpteenth time that year alone. Sitting next to them, with her young daughter on her knee, sat Alicia Mercer, also there for the umpteenth time herself. The three of them were not new to this situation in the slightest, it seemed like they were always in an office, a classroom, a somewhere that held someone from the school giving them troubled looks and ready to explain just what mayhem their sons had caused this time.

"Enough is enough" the school principal, Dr. Warren Vidic had declared. "In the whole time I have been the head administrator at this school, never had I ever had the displeasure of having the same pair of boys in my office at least twice a week as I have with your sons

"I have had them in here for vandalism, for violence against teachers and students, disregard for authority, the list could go on. They have been barred from sports, clubs, dances, sports games, any sort of extracurricular activity we can think of. Ms. Mercer, if your son wasn't such an important asset to our school's testing scores, I would have had been expelled within the first semester of his school career here"

Which is all nothing new to the three parents. They all knew just how problematic their sons were. They had learned long ago that promising better behavior out of them was not going to fix anything. That no matter how many detentions they had to serve, how many suspensions plaque their records, they just never shaped up, never tried to walk the straight line. The three parents just nodded their heads like they always did.

This time, there was a second man standing next to Dr. Vidic. A man that introduced himself as Robert Cross, the school's psychologist.

"Mr. and Mrs. Miles, Ms. Mercer" he had said to them. "Your sons are genuinely good students, and individually nice boys. But when they're together, all of that quickly seems to go south as you're all very well aware of"

And oh, what weren't they aware of?"

"Ms. Mercer" Cross continues. "Your son Alex, he hasn't been tested for anything has he? I ask because while he's a brilliant student, his behavior is extremely worrisome and has proven to be quite a danger to his peers…"

Alicia Mercer shakes her head. "Never been able to afford to" she answers. "Not that he'd ever agree to any sort of testing to begin with. He's smart enough to realize when he's being found out"

(Alicia Mercer, I've known my entire life, and I've never met a more tired woman. She had every right to be of course, learning right from the start that no matter what she did, she couldn't control her wild, dangerous son from becoming more frightening and sociopathic than he was at any given moment. She never really punished him, never tried to keep him in line, because every time she did, it really didn't end well. Even when we were small and little, Alex was a master of mind games that dealt more damage than a fist could.)

"Mr. and Mrs. Miles" Cross says. "Your son, Desmond. Desmond is an honestly wonderful young man. Very friendly, very talkative, very bright. He has a bright future ahead of him, I do think he'll do well after high school"

At this, the Miles parents beam, because it's not often they get such praise about their son. Anything about him, it's usually lumped together with Alex, and it's easy for them to forget they did raise a rather nice son and not the delinquent he so often is associated as.

"I want to help them" Cross tells the three parents. "And I think the only way possible to really turn them around is to separate them"

The room goes quiet after that, save for small gurgles and giggles heard from the young Mercer sibling sitting in Alicia's lap. What Cross suggests is unfathomable, insane, completely unheard of. Never before had they attempted to separate the two boys, twins in every way imaginable save for blood. Wherever Alex goes, Desmond will follow. Wherever Desmond goes, Alex will obsessively trail behind. They share almost everything, a birthday, a home, a _mind_.

It's not like the thought had never occurred to them, oh how they wish those two could be separated without incident. But they know, that mostly on the Mercer boy's part, that he can't last a day without his twin by his side. Yet, here is their golden opportunity, and so they listen to what is suggested.

"There's a fantastic boarding school only a few hours away we'd like to send young Mr. Miles to" Dr. Vidic says, pulling out a pamphlet for the school and placing it down on his desk in front of the Miles parents. "He should be able to concentrate on his grades, extra activities to keep him focused, more _stable_ young people to associate with. Colleges should be more likely to look at his applications this way"

And that is fine for William and Hannah. Cross pulls out a pamphlet of his own and hands it to Alicia Mercer.

"This is a school up north" Cross explains. "It specializes in troubled youth who need a more specific environment to learn and grow in. We think Alex will do well there"

And Alicia laughs as she reads the pamphlet over, her daughter prying it from her hand to shove into her mouth.

"You want to institutionalize him" Alicia laughs. "Have him locked up where he can't hurt anyone"

"Alicia!" Hannah Miles cries in shock.

"Oh come on, it's what everyone has been wanting for years" Alicia chuckles. "I mean, if the school is so willing" and she looks Cross in the eye. "And if they feel so daring, they're more than welcome to him"

And so a decision, is reached.

**x-X-X-x**

I wouldn't know about this for weeks to come. What was I to think about some parent teacher conference? They happened all the time. I just knew that night after dinner, my dad was gonna sit me down and chew me out for being such a shithead. You know, goddammit Desmond why can't you just behave for once? Why do you keep getting into these fights? Why can't you do anything by yourself? Swear to god Desmond, if you don't shape up soon, so help me…

Same old same old. Literally nothing new. Because then after dinner, Alex and I would just do what we do best, live up to our names.

And our names are Trouble.

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Thanks for reading, I super appreciate it!


	3. Alex - The Party

Now we're gonna mix things up a bit. This story isn't really action orientated as it is more psychological, and I want you all to keep that in mind as you read this next chapter, mkay?

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This trouble we so love to put ourselves in…I wouldn't call it trouble so much as I would instead, simply refer to it as, lording over the pathetic, stupid creatures of this earth that we're forced to be a part of. Too long of a thought to follow? Basically, we like to remind others just how fragile their existence is compared to ours. And since it's so fragile, they need to acknowledge our greatness as much as they can before we inevitably wipe the slate clean.

There was a party tonight that we obviously had to show up to. The beautiful thing about living in such a small town, is that whenever someone from school had a party, it was just general politeness to let anyone come to it. Freshman, sophomores, juniors, seniors, didn't matter. Everyone comes to the party, even the assholes no one likes. Which includes us.

"Desmond" I only have to say aloud, standing in my room, closet doors wide open. "What are we wearing tonight?"

"I dunno" I can hear some say, picture him shrugging as he stares into his own closet. "What's clean for you?"

"Everything, I did my laundry a couple days ago" I say, and then I sigh loudly. "Desmond, have you really not…"

"…No?"

I groan. "I'm doing your laundry tomorrow, because you're fucking ridiculous"

"Alex, please"

I swear, if it wasn't for me, his life would be an unorganized mess. He would get nothing done without me, I'm more of his mother than his actual mother is. I don't know why she thinks she can leave Desmond to his own devices like so and expect a positive end result. I think she forgets she's raising a teenage boy, and if it wasn't for me, her time as a mother would be significantly more difficult.

"How about this" Desmond starts. "I have a clean dress shirt. And I have a clean vest. Wanna just do that?"

"What color?"

"Navy"

"I have black"

"Close enough right?"

I close my eyes and hum in frustration. No, it's not exactly, and I wish he'd realize that.

"Alright, alright calm down. If I wear a tie with it, will you forgive me?"

I nod, yes, just slightly.

"Okay then, let's do that"

This wouldn't be a problem if he stayed on top of things like fresh clothing, but that's a lecture for me to give him at another time. We dress, with me reminding him to his charge his phone, make sure he has his wallet, don't forget his keys, wear the nice cologne tonight, everything he would probably forget if I didn't tell him.

And in turn he reminds me, brush my hair, clean my glasses, try and be _nice_ tonight, don't send anyone to the hospital, keep my hands to myself, yadda yadda. Things I'm not sure why he's lecturing me on, but I nod my head and say yes anyway because if I don't then he won't go out with me tonight, and I won't give him the satisfaction of hearing me beg.

But we're dressed in no time, "See you downstairs" is exchanged between us, and we head down. I pass my little sister, Dana, in the living room. She squeals her nickname for me, "Allie!" and holds up one of my old action figures to me. I suppose I can indulge her for once, and I pluck the toy from her tiny hand and toss back across the room, and I leave her there as she squeals more ad claps her hands.

Desmond and I open are doors at the same time, and at the same time we step out the door and close it behind us. There's a small wall that divides our yards, and we walk along it in perfect sync to the end where there are two metal fences. We open them at the same time, and close them at the same time. We join hands and make our way to Desmond's car.

This is how it's always been. And hoe it always will be. Others could only wish they had someone else in their life like I did with Desmond. A perfect better half. And I want people to be jealous. Let envy consume them before they all go away, and it's just the two of us in our perfect world…

We're sitting in his car, pulling out of the driveway when I reach up and over to slide a finger along the right side of his lips. It happened about a mouth ago, when we got into a particularly nasty incident that left a long cut over his perfect lips. It was since healed over, I just liked feeling it now. He bats my fingers away because he's still not used to it, still doesn't understand my fascination with it.

"I keep telling ya to not mess with it" he snorts at me, and I just smile at him.

"But I like it" I tell him. "It makes you look so roughish"

That always makes him laugh. I used to hate it, because I thought it marred his perfect face. But now I loved it, it suited him so well. My prince, throwing himself into the fray to come out victorious.

Before we attend this party, we just drive down to one of the local connivence stores. It feels like proper etiquette, to at least come to a party with an addition to the drinks selection. And we know the best place to get some finer liquor without the hassle of and such.

Shaun Hasting's groan of agony is audible from across the store the moment we walk in. Same grade as us, in a couple of our classes. His hate for me burns hotter than the hell he claims I crawled out of. Shaun's a dangerous one, always telling my dear Desmond blasphemous lies about me, about us, about the world. So I always make it a point to remind Mr. Hastings of his place.

"What the bloody hell are you two twits in here for?" Shaun scowls at us as we approach the counter. "You two aren't allowed in here and you know it"

We smile politely at him, because it's important for two princes to maintain a certain level of civility and politeness in the face of hostility. This exchange has happened far too many times for us to count, and we all know exactly how it's going to turn out.

"Come on now Shaun" I say to him patiently. "We have an appointment to keep. We only request one bottle of you. The faster you comply, the faster you get out of your hair"

Shaun's scowl only deepens.

"Look, Shaun, I'll even pay for it" Desmond offers. "So uh, the usual please"

"I don't think you idiots understand" Shaun says, and I can feel my cheek twitch. "Every time…every damn _time_ I let you two get away with a bottle, something goes wrong within six hours after you leave this store" and he gives me a certain look that makes my smile falter. "You two need to leave, now, before someone sees you here and calls the goddamn co-AHPS"

My hand shot out for his shirt collar without me realizing it. And I'm yanking him down to slam into the counter without so much as a single thought in my head. Because how dare he threaten us like that. How dare he just not comply like so. Shaun simply gets too testy sometimes, which he really shouldn't, not with two kings-to-be.

"We're not going to play with you tonight" I growl. "Just give us what we want before a simple bottle of vodka isn't the only thing that needs to be payed for"

The frames on his face looked new. Especially considering I broke the last ones only a mere…Three weeks ago? His optometrist must _love_ me. Desmond is prying my hand away from Shaun, pulling me away in general, getting me away from him.

"What did I tell you" Desmond hisses at me. "What did I fucking tell you?"

"But we're not there yet" I say quietly, but I can feel the disappointment radiating off him. So I stand back, like a good boy, let him handle this. This isn't the first time this has also happened, where my body moves on its own accord and someone else ends up getting hurt. It's why I really never should go anywhere without Desmond, he's the only one who can reign me back in without further incident.

We don't leave with the vodka like I wanted, but with a simple pack of beer, close enough. Desmond lectures me in the car again as we drive to the party. I hate making him angry. All I want is for him to feel happiness and love towards me, not anger and bitter disappointment. I stay silent the whole ride there, and only relax when his hand finds mine, and holds it tight.

**x-X-X-x**

We could feel the vibration of the music before we even walked up to the front door. It feels like everyone from school is here, or at least our junior class and the senior class combined. Desmond and I are clearly two of the better dressed persons here. We get plenty of stares as we parade ourselves through the house to the kitchen, and while we're not given a warm welcome, the party's host accepts our gracious offering of alcohol, and tells us to help ourselves.

Desmond takes it upon himself to meet and greet everyone he sees, everyone he knows personally. It's only because the others are under the influence already that they act so delighted to see him, shake his hand, pound their fists against his. For this portion of the night, I am his shadow, content to stand just behind his shoulder. Red cups are constantly being pushed into our hands, not all of them we drink (especially since one of us needs to be sober enough to drive home later).

I'm not a social drunk. I'm not a social person to begin with. The night, to me, becomes a whirlwind of colors and sounds and people and eventually I have to sit down just to get my head back on straight. Why I drink, i'm never really sure. I know I'm a dangerous little drunk, my poor impulse control becoming absolutely nonexistent. I'm an absolute terror when I'm alone as well.

Just that somewhere along the way, I lose Desmond. I'm not sure where to find him, but my mind forces my body forces to seek him out, to reclaim him, put him back in my presence and back at my side where he belonged. Which mostly involved me sliding along the walls until I reached the living room where everyone was dancing.

It was a slower song, meant for long, sensual dances between partners, dimmed lights and all. Leaning against the wall, staring out on to the floor…All I had to do was close my eyes and concentrate. I turned my head to the right, opened my eyes, and there he was, across the room. I could see him quickly glance once in my direction, but otherwise his focus was on the girl who's waist his arms were around.

My fuzzy mind debated with itself then. Do I go rip her away from him and reclaim him? Or do I sit and wait, and let him come to me, because he'll always come back to me. I supposed I eventually decided I'd wait, not wanting to earn his ire once more this evening. I push myself off the wall, retrieving a glass of water or a soda was my new task at hand. I never succeeded as someone dimwit barreled into me, grabbing my arms and shoulders for support.

"Doo, I'm sho' shorry" the dimwit apologizes in a slurred voice.

I lightly push him away, but he holds back on fast.

"Wait- Hey baybay, heeey" and a large, stupid drunken grin spreads across his face. I scowl in disgust at him. "Lemme make it uh' to ya" he suggests. "Less dance, yeaah?"

"Release me" I snarl at him. But no, he persists, so I check him into the wall I was just leaning against. He lets out a howl of pain and crumbles. Before anyone can say a word, I am gone, taken off into some other part of the house. Eventually I end up in the far reaches of the backyard, falling onto a plastic lawn chair. I can only sit there in hopes that Desmond didn't see, that Desmond wouldn't know and get angry with me. I hate, hate, _hate_ making him mad. Anger is not a good emotion to see on his handsome face…

It's a miserable next two hours after that. The party steadily grows quieter as its attendees either pass out on the floor or in chairs, or leave to drunkenly drive themselves home. I am trapped in my chair, quietly sobering myself up as I wait for Desmond to find me. The less crowded the home and back patio become, the more concerned for him I grow. I can't feel him, and that concerns me greatly.

Desmond and I, we've always had a special connection. Even in the most crowded of rooms, the most complex of places, no matter the distance between us, we will find each other. There is no place we can go that the other cannot get to. And we always know how the other could feeling at that moment.

But I can't feel him. Which is odd, it's so odd. I can just feel this intense amount of pressure, like a pain building behind my eyes. Now I grow even more worrisome, because something may be wrong, and I am not there by his side to aid him. I can only feel this pressure when searching for him so maybe, maybe-

The pressure is suddenly gone. It's like a wave of relief washing over me. I sit in absolute confusion. What was he doing? I decide it's time to find out. Standing is awful after being on my ass for so long. Everything just goes rushing around inside me, and it's rather appalling my body hasn't expelled the night's fun. But, I feel like the fun I should have had was lost long before I even stepped foot into the affair.

I make it through the house, back to front, only being guided by that hazy, fluttery connection left between us. I feel him before I hear him. Hear him before I see him. He is just turning away, saying goodbye to someone, when he turns, and finally notices me. He smiles, so I smile. He holds out his hand, and I reach out to take it. And Desmond pulls me close, and like that, our weaning connection reignites.

It's all I need. To hear him, to see him, to feel him, to smell him. There's nothing more relaxing and reassuring. In such a swift gesture, two are whole again, we are complete once more. Just like we were always meant to be. "Let's go home" I whisper to him. "I need to go throw up"

And so we do.

**x-X-X-x**

We return home much the same way we left it. Our hands are pulled apart at the gates that we open and close at the same time. Again we walk along the wall between our yards step for step. We pause before out respective front doors.

"See you upstairs, buddy" is what Desmond always says to me.

"Upstairs" I only repeat, and we walk inside. The moments our doors close, I can hear Bill already interrogating Desmond on exactly where he has been all night, how much had he drunk, did he really drive home? I already know how this conversation will go. I stand rooted to the spot, because while I have heard this before, and while there is a wall separating us, I will not move until Desmond does.

I know the exact moment Desmond moves, beginning the climb up the stairs to the second floor, and to our bedrooms. "Bathroom, Alex" Desmond reminds me, and I sigh loudly enough for him to physically hear and I detour to the bathroom. I loosen my tie, unbutton my vest and shirt, throw them all aside. I'm suddenly reminded that we're doing laundry tomorrow. But it still wouldn't do us any good to puke over our nice clothing.

Finally getting to bed, is a small event for us. Lock our doors. Cross out another day on our calendars- only another three weeks and one day until our birthday. Almost seventeen. Another year closer to freedom. Undress, put on pajamas. Turn off the lights. Pull back the bed covers. Slide into bed, pull the covers back over. Lift up the papers we're hiding the hole with. Stick our hands though. Hold. Just like always.

"Did you have fun tonight?" I can hear Desmond murmur to me.

"As much as I could" I reply. "We could do better"

A chuckle from him, then a yawn. "Well I had fun" he mumbles. "Goodnight, Alex"

"Goodnight, Desmond" I say back.

"Sweet dreams" he says to me. To him as well I tell him.

"I love you" I never forget to say.

And he says he loves me back.

Because of course we love each other. It's the way, it's always meant to be.

* * *

Thank you all for reading!


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